


Smooth

by mandykaysfic



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 01:23:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandykaysfic/pseuds/mandykaysfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney helps John restore his appearance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smooth

Rodney hesitates outside John's quarters. He isn't exactly sure of his welcome. The latest ritual required to secure trade rated pretty high on the embarrassment scale. Carson had eventually let John leave the Infirmary with a selection of things to try out in the privacy of his own bathroom; Rodney is confident none of them will work. He's scavenged a few things from the botany and chemistry departments on the off chance they might do the trick, but he's relying on some more essential items collected from his own quarters. He knows from experience Carson's last resort supplies are inadequate. He shifts the pack on his shoulder and presses the chime.

Several minutes elapse before the door opens a crack. It opens some more, just enough for Rodney to squeeze through. “Did you have any luck with any of Carson's concoctions?” he asks. John's head is obscured by one towel, another is tied around his waist and a third, one of the large bath sheets, is draped across his shoulders so it hangs down over his chest. “I guess not,” Rodney says in response to the mumble that emerges from the folds.

He sets his pack down on John's desk. “I can't do much for your hair. Frankly, if it hasn't washed out by now, I think your options are limited. Given that it's highly inappropriate for the military commander of Atlantis to be seen sporting red, blue and green tips in his hair, you'll need to either to cut it, or dye it as close to your own hair color as we can get. I'm guessing that an all over bleach job is entirely too radical as well, so I've brought some dyes we can test, if that's the way you chose to go.”

John slowly removes the towel from his head. It's not like Rodney hasn't seen him in all his glory, with the multi-colored spikes glittering in the midday sun, making him look like some sort of hippie parrot, but his appearance is still an eye-opener. “I'll try the dye,” he says hopefully.

Rodney nods. He's of the opinion they'll actually have to cut John's hair as the stuff the priest applied seems to have chemically bonded somehow. And it's not just the hair on his head. “Did you have any luck with...?” and he gestures at John's groin.

John groans.” It's not right. How the fuck can they expect anyone to take them seriously? I have fucking glitter in my fucking pubic hair.”

Rodney has to clamp his lips shut. He won't laugh. He won't laugh.

“Oh, get it over with. Go ahead and laugh.” John drops his other towels on the floor.

Rodney's shoulders shake as he manfully tries to hold back his laughter, although his efforts are for naught. John's nipples stand out. The chest hair that surrounded them has been partially removed in two circles of about three inches diameter, so they now resemble two pink eyes. Ten strips of skin, five fanning out equidistantly on each side of his navel look for all the world like whiskers. But it's lower Rodney can't help looking. John's pubic hair has been shaped into a triangle and covered with glitter. His leg hair to mid-thigh has also been removed.

“What kind of a freaking god looks like this?” John moans.

“One whose worshipers regularly use wacky weed?” offers Rodney, when he can finally speak. “You want to deal with that first?”

“Please,” begs John. “It won't wash off and it's beginning to itch.”

Rodney sorts through the contents of his pack. He brings out five containers. “I think the best order is,” and he starts to line them up. “I could pass them in one at a time, if you like, or I can...?” He raises his eyebrows, silently offering his help.

“Bring them in with you,” says John. He gathers up his towels and goes back into the bathroom.

Rodney hastily strips off and follows. Forty minutes later, they are both pink-skinned and pruney and John is still sparkling. John shakes his head and slowly reaches for the pack of razors Carson has provided.

“No, no, no. You can't just start shaving it off.”

“Rodney,” John protests.

“No. I mean, yes, shave it off, but that's not the best way to do it. You have to trim it short first.”

“Trim it.”

“Yes, trim it, so you don't just pull the hairs out. No sense causing yourself more pain - unless you want to. And you need more suitable shaving cream. You can't just drag a razor across. I've, er, got some with me. In case you didn't have anything. Soap's crap for this.”

John looks down quizzically; it's obvious Rodney doesn't shave his genitals.

“I might have done this before,” he confesses, not wanting to go into details. He continues quickly, so John doesn't have a chance to ask, “Look, trust me. You need to trim it. You need a lot of shaving cream. You need proper safety razors and you need to put some stuff on it afterward. Not aftershave,” he warns. “Okay, I know you wouldn't do that,” he hastily retracts when John glares at him. “I have some aloe based cream that would be suitable,” he offers placatingly.

John stands awkwardly. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, then rubs the back of his neck.

After all this time, Rodney's used to interpreting John's body language. “I could do it for you. Less chance of cuts and nicks that way, specially as you've never done it before.”

“Here?”

Rodney considers. John's bathroom lacks an actual bath and it's going to take quite a while to do the job properly. One would think people who apparently remove hair on a regular basis as part of their religious rituals would do a superlative job, but John's exposed skin is reddened and a closer inspection while in the shower revealed any number of broken hair shafts. Besides, the application of seriously adhesive glitter in no way qualifies as after-care. He shakes his head. “It will be easier if you lie on your bed. Go put some towels down.”

He finds what he needs. By the time he's organized, John is lying on the bed. Rodney snips and snips. And snips some more. There is glitter amongst the roots; it's obvious clipping won't be enough to completely remove it. He sends John to have another quick shower and meanwhile readies himself for the next stage.

The can of shaving cream is pink. It's guaranteed to be only mildly scented and hypo-allergenic.

“Kind of... feminine, isn't it?”

“It does a better job,” says Rodney and he applies plenty of foam. If he makes decorative swirls when doing so, that's his prerogative. It's hard to be completely detached when there's glitter involved. He works slowly and carefully with the razor, which is also pink. John's hand creeps down a couple of times, but he's more hindrance than help and Rodney tells him to stop it. The only sounds end up being the scrape and swish. The verbal exhortation, instructions and cursing that usually accompany his work are an internal monologue this time. He changes the water four times and the razor twice.

There isn't actually any glitter on the hairs around John's hole. John fingers the smooth skin at his groin. Feels his balls. Strokes his cock. Shivers. He looks at Rodney. “Do the rest.”

That doesn't take so long. Rodney looks at the results of his handiwork for some time. It's good. The lack of nicks and cuts are as much testimony to John's ability to keep perfectly still as it is to Rodney's steady hand. He hands John the jar of aloe cream.

John pushed it back. “Would you?”

Rodney would. John's newly bare skin is smooth and pink and sensitive. His cock looks longer. Rodney knows it's only an illusion, but it's an enticing one. His mouth waters, however he knows the aloe cream tastes bad; bad enough he doesn't want it in his mouth. Except maybe he does. He keeps rubbing John's shaft. Then it becomes a moot point, at least for the time being, when John groans and comes over Rodney's hand.

He can't help sniggering as he cleans John's chest. Nipple eyes, navel nose and skin whiskers are still funny, even when he's being distracted by John's doubly naked cock. “Sure you don't want to leave it like this?”

“Rodney.”

“Okay. Okay.” He gives the can a quick shake and sprays a white line straight down the center of John's chest. Before John can protest, he quickly makes two foam caps over John's nipples and then goes over each whisker line. He finishes with a smiley mouth on John's lower belly where hair still grows. He's not prepared for the blob of foam landing on his chest when John flicks it off his own.

Rodney grabs a new razor and waves it in the air.

John's hand, set to send more foam in Rodney's direction, draws back. “Spoilsport,” he mutters, but lies back in expectation. Rodney doesn't disappoint.

In a while, John's chest is smooth; glitter and hairy god-image free. The shine is from the after-care product. John touches himself.

Rodney can see the speculation in John's eyes as his gaze flickers from the patch of light brown hair on Rodney's chest to the darker hair below. He shakes the pink can; it's still around one third full. It will be enough.

END


End file.
